


Not Done Yet

by IsaacTheGreat69



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Degradation, Double Penetration, Incubi, M/M, Praise, Spitroasting, dub-con, fuck monsters who can make their own lube at will in case that isn’t clear, hunter logan, incubus characters, incubus deceit, incubus patton, smut/not safe for sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 04:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19986103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsaacTheGreat69/pseuds/IsaacTheGreat69
Summary: Hunter Logan is on his way to an assignment, but the assignment gets to him first.





	Not Done Yet

**Author's Note:**

> lol wrote this cause I can't seem to focus on my WIPs and I was hoping that writing out this idea - which has been in my head 5ever - would unblock me

Logan closed the door of his motel room with a tired sigh, back pressed to the cheap wood for a moment before he straightened up and walked further into the room. He looked around at his surroundings, taking a mental inventory. Wood-paneled walls. A bathroom in the back, yet to be inspected. A sink and mirror outside of the bathroom; plain, simple, unassuming and clean as a whistle with a cheap laminate countertop. A bulky, outdated television on a wooden, dark-finish storage unit of some sort, likely housing the mini fridge since he couldn’t see one in the open. A chair by the door. A queen-sized bed, pristine sheets in a rather disgusting mustard yellow with two fluffy pillows. A bedside drawer with a lamp and digital alarm clock atop it, the alarm clock’s soft red neon telling the time. 12:32 am. 

Logan sets his arguably overstuffed duffel on the chair, unzipping it to check it’s contents, though he knows them by heart. His eyes scan over a flask - filled with holy water - two wooden stakes, a rosary, two guns - the black one full of silver bullets, the silver one containing bullets infused with a mix of ingredients that would kill a witch upon penetration. His eyes scan over his shotgun and the storage clip of rocksalt-filled shells, then the iron chain he’d learned to carry after a nasty encounter with a malevolent spirit two years back. They settle on the machete, sharpened earlier in the day when he’d stopped for a bathroom break, and then he zips the duffel closed. 

He isn’t quite near the location of the incubi he’s hunting yet, so he doesn’t worry about taking protective measures. Indeed, he’s far too tired to worry about something as unlikely as an incubus or two traveling fifty miles just to feed on him of all people. Logan toes off his loafers with careful ease, loosens his tie and drops it on top of the duffel, then discards his shirt and pants on top of that. He slips under the covers and quickly drifts off to sleep.

* * *

Logan doesn’t often have erotic dreams. That isn’t to say that he doesn’t experience sexual attraction, or that he lacks a libido; his physical, intimate desires just don’t translate to late night unconscious fantasy. Usually. Tonight seems to be a different matter, however. There’s no visual, at least not yet, but Logan can feel in his dreams the soft, sure sensation of hands tracing his muscles, dancing down his sides, rubbing and pinching and groping just enough to get his attention and feel good. He shivers, though he isn’t sure if it’s because he’s feeling cold - did he kick off his blanket in his sleep? - or because a mouth just sealed over his left nipple. 

A hand rubs him through his boxers, causing him to harden rather quickly in his unconscious state. Teeth lightly grazing against his nipple, nails lightly scratching down his sides, and a mouth attaching to his throat makes a moan bubble out of his throat, forcing its way past his lips. Logan rocks his hips up into the hand still giving attention to his clothed cock, and not long after his boxers are being pulled down his thighs. 

Logan’s eyes open with a gasp and a moan as a wet heat envelopes his cock. Now that he’s awake, he fully expected the fantasy to disappear. However, even with his limited sight - he doesn’t remember taking off his glasses…. - he can see the slightly messy head of curls between his thighs and feel the shifting pleasure of their mouth bobbing up and down over his cock. Logan goes to push them off, to ask them what the hell they think they’re doing, and _how the hell did they get in here?_ but hands come out of nowhere and grab his wrists. 

Another body slips in behind his, pushing him up into a sitting position and pinning his wrists behind his back. Logan can’t see the other individual, but he can feel their hard cock against his bare ass and their hot breath against his neck. The second stranger’s hands shift so they’re gripping Logan’s wrists in one hand, their now free hand coming up to turn Logan’s face. Logan gets the barest glimpse of more curls in a slightly lighter shade and a pair of glasses before he’s being pulled into a heated kiss.

Logan moans into the kiss as the person sucking on his cock takes him deeper, down into their throat. His chest heaves slightly with panting breaths that force themselves through his nose and he finds himself returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm, though he isn’t sure why. His toes curl and he pulls on the second stranger’s grip as he feels himself nearing the edge, but their grip doesn’t budge in the slightest. Logan begins to let out desperate sounds, rocking his hips up into the wet heat of the first stranger. 

Logan comes down their throat with a muffled moan, chest heaving with his heavy breaths. The second stranger breaks the kiss to pout at the first one, who’s pulling off of Logan’s cock and licking their- his lips.

“Aw, no fair! Why do you get the first one?”

Stranger 1 raises a perfect eyebrow. “Because I got us inside.”

Stranger 2 rests their- his chin on Logan’s shoulder as he continues to pout. “I coulda gotten inside just fine without you, you just cheated!”

Stranger 1 rolls his eyes, smirking. “Are you going to complain all night Patton? Because I think he’s coming out of it.”

Stranger 2, Patton apparently, looks at Logan, who’s obviously becoming more aware and alarmed by the situation. He licks his lips and tsks Logan. “Uh-uh!” He says sweetly, attaching his mouth to Logan’s neck, nipping and sucking on his flesh.

Logan moans softly, his awareness quickly dulling. Stranger 1 smirks at him. “We aren’t done with you yet, hunter.”

Logan’s eyes widen. Hunter. He’d called Logan a hunter. That means they must be-

“Dee,” Patton detaches his mouth from Logan’s neck, grinding against his ass. Logan’s a little ashamed at how that makes his breath stutter and his cock twitch. “I wanna fuck him already, please? Please please _please_?”

Dee sighs, rubbing his forehead. “I swear… Be patient, Patton. We have to prep him, or he’ll be out of commission too soon. We don’t get anything out of this if he doesn’t enjoy it.” 

The smooth, almost teasing tone of Dee’s voice causes Logan’s mind to stall momentarily. Dee leans forward and Patton presses against Logan’s back, the two incubi shifting Logan to sit with his legs tucked under him. Suddenly slick fingers are teasing at Logan’s entrance. He opens his mouth to protest, but Dee surges forward and catches him in an open-mouthed, dirty kiss. Patton attaches himself to Logan’s neck once again, and between the two of them his mind begins to go hazy once again. 

Two fingers press into him slowly, though one had tried to move faster before seemingly slowing down to match the other’s pace. They stop once they’re pressed in to the base, pausing for a moment. Logan pants and moans into Dee’s mouth, Patton moving to make another mark further down Logan’s neck. The fingers begin to move slowly, and after a little while Logan’s hips move to push back on them. 

The incubi take this as a sign that Logan’s ready for more. Two fingers becomes four, Logan’s breath hitching and a soft whine slipping into Dee’s mouth as the stretch burns, but in a pleasurable way. Dee chuckles low against Logan’s lips, pulling away and attaching himself to the other side of Logan’s neck as they begin to move their fingers, trusting and scissoring slowly to spread him open. Logan’s eyes flutter closed and he moans, rocking into their fingers, his cock aching between his legs. Fingers brush his prostate and he gasps breathlessly. They begin to aim for that spot on every slow thrust, driving Logan wild. Four fingers becomes six, but Logan hardly notices, lost in his haze. When they finally pull out a moment later, he whines. 

Dee chuckles, gripping Logan’s hips. “Oh, don’t worry, now comes the good part.” He pulls Logan into his lap, guiding him down onto his cock. Logan moans softly as he’s filled, gripping the incubus’ shoulders and panting for breath. Dee uses his grip on Logan’s hips to help him set a rhythm, riding his cock at a tortuously slow pace. Just when Logan feels like he’ll go mad from the teasing, Patton presses against his back, his cock nudging at Logan’s hole. The next time Dee guides Logan’s hips down, Patton’s cock presses inside, stretching him open. Logan lets out a breathy moan, his head tipping back. Patton groans behind him, nipping at his shoulder and making him shiver. 

They give Logan a short moment to adjust before they begin moving, one thrusting up as the other pulls out nearly to the tip. Logan is lost in the pleasure, gripping Dee’s shoulders and rolling his hips in a desperate attempt to feel more, harder, faster. Patton’s hands snake around to tease at his nipples and scratch down his chest and stomach. Logan cries out as one of them nudges his prostate. 

Then they start to move faster. 

The two incubi fuck Logan in earnest, thrusting into him roughly, gripping his hips, his waist, his arms. Logan can do nothing but shout and moan, hands scrabbling at Dee’s chest and shoulders for purchase. 

“Fuck, so good, such a good fucking cock slut, knew I’d have fun with you.” Dee mutters, his nails digging into Logan’s hips. 

“Oh, God. So good, feel so good, so perfect.” Patton pants in Logan’s ear. 

The two contrasting compliments - if you can call the litany of derogatory terms falling from Dee’s lips compliments - sends a shiver down Logan’s spine, heat pooling in his gut.

“Gonna make you come again and again. Gonna milk you dry, fill you up and leave you spent on cum-crusted sheets like the whore you are.”

“Gonna make you feel so good, God… Gonna fuck you till I can’t anymore, until all you dream about is my cock.”

Logan’s sounds become louder as he gets closer, the two incubi snapping their hips in time with each other as Logan slams his down. Patton grips Logan’s shoulders tightly and Dee holds Logan’s hips possessively and they both hit his prostate dead-on, making him nearly scream as he comes across his and Dee’s stomachs. Patton isn’t far behind, coming in Logan with a muffled groan, biting Logan’s shoulder to stifle the sound. He slips out of Logan, and Logan foolishly thinks that might be the end.

That is, until he’s bodily turned around onto his hands and knees and Dee is thrusting into his hole again, Patton stroking himself back to hardness quickly and pushing into Logan’s mouth. He gives Logan a teasing, amused smirk as the hunter looks up at him, carding a hand through his hair. “We aren’t even _close_ to being done with you, yet.”


End file.
